


The Sting of the Sunrise

by SereneDream



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, F/F, Fluff, There's a sweatdrop of Equius and Nepeta halfway through the piece.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SereneDream/pseuds/SereneDream
Summary: Crossing a desert ill-prepared and on a whim is a good idea, right? Of course it is. All of Vriska's ideas are good ideas! Duh!!!!!!!!





	The Sting of the Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in almost seven years so I hope the rust doesn't show too much. This piece was originally intended for a friend but I ended up enjoying it a lot and getting a lot of good feedback on it so I decided to go ahead and publish it online! Some dialogue from canon has been repurposed as those conversations haven't happened in the events preceding this story, and they've been remixed a bit. Enjoy, and I appreciate any feedback if you decide to leave any!

Stupid sun!

Stupid desert!!!

Stupid ZOMBIES!!!!!!!!

The blurry speck of green along the horizon looks so fake to the lone figure as she moves toward it without hesitation. Despite her misgivings about its relative realness, she has no other options beyond sprinting her butt off in its direction - the lone figure isn’t as alone as she would like. Desert sand sprays the path she blazes as her footfalls scrape at the ground, not deterring the groans behind her - they’re gaining on her.

“This is stupid! This is stupid,  _this is stupid_ ,  ** _this is stupid_** ** _!_** ” she repeats under her panting breath, hands clutching the top of her hood in a vice grip to block the sun from her gander bulb. She begins to slow down from exertion, but a swipe at the back of her robe magically makes some more energy come out of nowhere and go straight into her fronds. That’s how desperation works! More groans accompany her footfalls. “Shut up!”

An hour passes. No, maybe a few minutes, but it feels like _forever_. The green is closer and closer and she hopes it isn’t a mirage because she’s already imagined fake shit before and she’s having none of it this time! This better be real! Or. Or, she’s dead. That’s actually exactly the situation right now. If this isn’t real, she’s probably super dead! “Oh, god.” Yeah! “No, haha, not funny!” She starts to laugh but she almost trips. She doesn’t laugh after that.

“Not funny. This isn’t funny, this isn’t funny, this isn’t funny - it’s stupid! Things like this don’t happen! Not for- not for real!” She shouldn’t be talking, it’s wasting her breath, breath she needs to focus with and run with and _why is breathing so closely tied to physical movement?_ Who thought that was a good idea?!

If she had a moment to herself, she’d cry.

There’s a sudden hole in the sand, something she barely notices in time while being so fixated on the white structure in the midst of a green oasis ahead of her, and she stumble-jumps over it, landing on a knee really hard. That’s a scrape, for sure, but she tries to force herself up back onto her feet. A zombie falls into the hole, she thinks, but she doesn’t look back. Just run to the green, run to the green - she’s really sure this might possibly probably most definitely be the last time she could get up onto her feet because her feet really hurt. Now that she’s thinking about it, they really hurt so bad and-

A fresh hole explodes behind her. She falls - hard. She’s not getting up again. She’s dead. That’s it. It’s over! No surprise, no messing around, just her being eaten by a bunch of zombies! DEAD END! Game over!

The sand is really hot against her palm and elbow. She hisses at the heat, same heat making her horns feel so uncomfortable above her skull, and she braces against her left hand. There’s not enough time to catch her breath. There’s no energy to get up with. A moment passes - _now_ she’s crying.

The groans grow really loud for a few seconds, but there’s another sound too - gnashing, squelching, screaming. Oh, no! Are they eating her already?! Does it hurt so much that she can barely feel it?! Behind a sea of cerulean bullshit, she turns her head to look behind her, free arm clutching her red bag to her sand-stained chest protectively, not that there’s anything in it that’s important. Well, there’s her cool drawings. And her red boots, and her pirate coat, and-

Wait. She isn’t being eaten? Her eye widens as it clears up enough to watch a massive white beast tearing apart the undead, scattering sand, guts, and bones across the ever-twisting desert. She’s stock still as the creature drags the last zombie into a hole, burrowing deep below the ground.

She stares. It’s really, really, really quiet now.

“What????????”

Nothing responds to her. She realizes one of her shoes fell off when she fell, just her luck, so she reaches over and puts it back on, not wanting the stench of her sweaty foot to overpower the smell of the sand. That’s gross and she should probably cut down on the gross things she does while she’s nearby-

The white creature blasts out of another hole near her, making her squeak without meaning to, and big, judgemental eyes cast their gaze down on the poorly wrapped troll, who’s still trying to hastily shove a shoe onto her foot. The skull-like face is bigger than her tiny, insignificant-by-comparison body. The horns- the horns are familiar.

Wait, is this… the Mother Grub-

Before she could react, a mouth descends on her and she instinctively pushes her arms out to block it. It clamps down on her left arm, the metal almost bending under the fanged-teeth. She starts screaming and the dismay fluid begins anew.

“No, wait! Wait, wait, please, I’m not a zombie, I’m not! I’M NOT!” she pleads, trying to pull her arm from the powerful clamp of the teeth. The beast takes flight, startling her further, and a trail of blue tears and dust follow in their wake. They go hole to hole, as if she’s being considered for which hole would accommodate her best, before she’s suddenly pulled along toward the oasis; all the while, she’s screaming herself hoarse and crying. The zombies were less scary than this.

As suddenly as she was first picked up, she’s dropped, and she hits the grassy lawn with an unceremonious thump. There’s no victory fanfare for surviving - just the beat of her pounding pumper and the salty taste of her own tears rolling down her face. She rolls over onto her back with what remains of her energy, immediately regretting it due to how bright and terrible the sun is on her face, and she rolls again. She ends up rolling and rolling, out of shock and out of options; as long as she gets away from everything in the world that has ever existed, she’ll be fine.

It’s not long until she bumps against a doorway. She lets out a groan and scoots away from it, sitting up finally and staring out in the direction she came - the large, white Mother Grub stares at her from a few meters away, watching her carefully. She rubs her blue-stained cheeks, shuddering from exertion, and feels a chill crawl up her spine as the door behind her opens.

She turns to look at it - not surprised to see a certain troll in the doorway, hands akimbo on her hips, expression unreadable beyond confusion. Recognition hits the face immediately. The sand and dismay aren’t enough to conceal her identity, she guesses!

“Vriska?”

“... surprise?”

Everything goes black.

* * *

It smells annoyingly healthy when she wakes up. She immediately wants to stink up the place with her feet, it’d serve it right for daring to smell so… _fresh_. Maybe a nice pound or two of long-decomposed zombie guts would really sullen the mood of the respiteblock. That’s exactly what it deserves. Wait. Respiteblock?

Vriska sits up, coughing as her throat screams at her for water, and stares around in a panic at her unfamiliar surroundings. She’s on a table near a… sewing machine? There’s so many colors in the block, it makes her gag. Multicolored fabrics drape from the ceiling, multicolored plants decorate the corners of the block, and bright light filters through the windows. Bright light…

“Goddamnit!” she curses, hugging her robe close to her face as she launches off of the table, tripping and slipping on the ground into the only comfortable area of the block: a pile of cushions in-between a large bookcase and a wardrobe. Distantly, she hears muffled words and some strange chittering, but beyond that and the wind blowing sand across the desert outside, it’s really quiet. At least Vriska is out of the sunlight. She tiredly rubs her horns, feeling them uncomfortably heated from all the time spent in the light. “I’m going to have so much stupid sunburn and I’m going to flake skin everywhere and die. That’s exactly what’s going to happen.”

She kicks a cushion away; it’s too hot to bundle up. Frustration evident, she rips the robe off of her - part of it catching on her horns - and tosses it into the middle of the block. It partially becomes a sand-covered, brown welcome carpet at the top of the stairs. She’s already leaving her mark. What else is a Serket to do?

Impulsively, Vriska fishes one of the magic 8-balls from her bag and asks it a question. “Am I going to die here?”

_Better not tell you now._

“Ugh!” Useless, like always! Just her luck. She lifts it up over her head so she can slam it down but the footsteps suddenly get louder as they approach the respiteblock, each footfall pronounced and certain. She stops herself just in time, a soft “bunp” resonating from the ball’s gentle collision with the floor. She watches the stairs hesitantly as a familiar head of hair and set of horns moves into view, followed by a concerned and just-as-frustrated face.

She has water in a glass. It looks cold, condensation forming on the sides from the heat. Her throat begs for the satisfaction clinging to the interior of the see-through crystal. “I assumed you would be thirsty after your undoubtedly lengthy, ill-advised, and foolhardy excursion to my hive, so I brought you water, because you do not have anything to drink or eat in your bag, and you will most surely die without it. Please drink it.”

Vriska squints at the meddlesome being. Not even a minute into her visit and she’s already being fussed over! “I’m not dead, dying, or going to die, so you can shove your water where the sun doesn’t shine! Which I hope exists here, there has to be spots where it doesn’t shine! Shove it! Right! There! Kanaya!” She waits a beat. “And stop looking at my stuff!” She kicks the 8-ball toward the other troll. The fanged troll stops it with her foot.

_Very doubtful._

Kanaya stares at Vriska. She pinches the bridge of her cartilaginous nub and takes a breath, overbite fangs digging into her bottom lip for a moment, before she calmly puts the glass down on the table near her.

“Fine. Since I already brought this glass of cool, refreshing life-giving liquid here, I guess I will just. Leave it here. Alone. On this desk. There is no point in taking it back downstairs, after all. I am sure it will be just fine right here, unused, until it gets warmer than block temperature. And then it will be unpleasant for everyone,” slowly spoke the jade-blooded troll, at no point taking her eyes off Vriska. She bends down after a second of silence and picks up the robe off the floor, running a finger over the frayed fabric. “I… am going to clean this. If you need me, I will be downstairs. Where there is food. Life-sustaining sustenance. No reason for my mentioning of it, it is simply a fact.”

With a swivel on her heel, she starts back down the stairs, glancing back only once in some phony concern before disappearing.

Vriska stares at the glass of water. A water droplet slowly rolls down its length, finding rest on the table. She watches a second one, a third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth, a seventh, an eighth, a-

* * *

When Kanaya returns, the glass of water is empty and Vriska is scribbling hard in a notebook, glaring holes into it as she writes, or draws, or destroys? The sun isn’t as strong now, the rays long past their apex, but Vriska has still isolated herself to the cushy corner of her respiteblock. She looks terrible, simply put, so she needs the comfort no doubt. Quietly and gently, she puts the clean robe down on her desk and starts up the sewing machine, gathering a small box of materials nearby into her slender digits. From behind her, she hears a yell.

“Give me some warning next time!”

“This is my respiteblock,” Kanaya answers, calmly taking a seat to start fixing the tears and holes in Vriska’s robe. She hasn’t asked, because Vriska would say no, so she might as well go ahead and do it before she can stop her. If the cerulean has noticed, she hasn’t mentioned anything. That means she hasn’t noticed, because she would mention something. “But if it makes you feel more comfortable in _my_ hive, I will loudly announce every time I am about to enter a block. Is that what you want? I can easily acquiesce to this demand.”

“Shut up! You’re making fun of me. You were doing that silent and creepy thing I know you **must** do all the time, with how badly you want to be a drinker!” Vriska mocks her, squinting at her through the sunlight beaming into the block. “Just look at these books!”

“There is nothing wrong with them.”

“ _I’ll_ be the judge of that! I’m not some dumb flighty broad that can’t read, I know how much creepy filth must be in here!” she argues, slapping her notebook down on the ground by the bookcase. The red pencil she was using rolls against it and then onto the floor, making an annoying clatter. Kanaya gets up and drapes some of the hanging fabrics over the open windows, dimming the light in the block into something bearable for Vriska.

The Serket is immediately incensed. “Why did you do that?!”

“You do not like the light.”

“Ugh!!!!!!!! Why do you try to help me and stuff? What's the point! It's kind of bothersome. And insulting sometimes!”  She gets up, wobbly-legged, and stomps rather pathetically over to a window, roughly pulling off the drape and hissing at the sting of the sunlight on her face. “So I have some idiot aversion to the sunlight. Big deal! The sunlight blows! It's got nothing to do with you and you know it! You’re not my personal pair of sunglasses, you Meddler! Why you so meddley, Miss Meddlesome McFussyfangs????????”

Kanaya could almost hear every question mark. Not backing down in the slightest, she puts the drape up again because she doesn’t like how Vriska is squinting at her. It’s annoying and hostile. Vriska pulls them down again. Kanaya puts them up. Down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up, until she’s uncomfortable with putting them down again for no apparent reason. Grumpily, she finds her seat in the big pile of cushions and crosses her arms. The jadeblood notices two dents in her left arm.

“When I am finished with your robe, I will see if I can fix your arm. My lusus had no idea who you were, you are lucky she did not stash you in one of her feeding holes. Those are where she keeps her meals - no doubt filled with undead, musclebeasts, and undead musclebeasts,” she tells her, turning to sit at her desk and start on sewing up the robe.

Vriska mutters and curses, none too quietly, laughing at her assertion that she has any kind of luck whatsoever… and then seems to snap up suddenly. “What? What, what, what? What are you doing with my robe?”

“Repairing it.”

Vriska groans. “You know what? Fine! Fix my stupid robe! It’s just some shitty fabric, knock yourself out! Have a blast! I bet it’s the highlight of your week! And you know what else????????” she asks, tossing a cushion at her chair. “I’ll even let you fix my arm too! It was your dumb lusus that damaged it anyway! I’m a guest and she attacked me!”

“She was only protecting me.”

“Whatever!”

It’s quiet after that, aside from the rumble of the sewing machine and the furious scribbling on a notebook. The sunlight starts to dim and dim and dim, making life easier for Kanaya’s unexpected guest. A moment passes before Kanaya suddenly gets a ping on her husktop - a message on Trollian, no doubt. She moves over and drags the elegant machine, bringing it over to her spot at the desk.

It’s a message from Vriska. She isn’t terribly surprised. She fights the urge to glance behind her and simply answers the message.

* * *

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling  grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

AG: Is it done yet?  
GA: Is That All You Wanted To Know  
AG: No! Talking in person is just… weird. This is easier. I’m used to this.  
GA: You Would Rather Do This Instead Of Just Shouting At Me  
AG: Oh my god, can you can it? Can you can it, Kan?  
GA: Funny Joke  
GA: Every Time You Tell Me To Can It I Think Its Funny   
GA: I Mean Its Just A Funny Thing To Say Dont You Think  
AG: ::::P  
GA: You Havent Told Me Why Youre Here  
GA: All You Said Was Surprise And Passed Out  
GA: Was That Part Of Your Plan  
GA: Its Ok If It Was  
AG: U88888888h! Sh8t up! I didn’t me8n to p8ss out! I w8s tired, ok?  
GA: I Assumed As Much  
GA: The Crying And Passing Out Gave It Away  
AG: SH8T 8P I W8SN’T CRY8NG!!!!!!!!  


Another pillow hits her. She grabs this one out of the air before it falls and gently places it near her sewing machine so she can rest her elbow comfortably.

AG: Wow, lo8k at y8u 8eing all smooth and all-kn8wing!  
AG: You kn8w that’s kind of cre8py? Have I m8ntioned yo8’re creepy?  
AG: M8y8e you should get a l8fe! Instead of acting l8ke some dum8 rain8ow dr8nker all d8y!  
AG: Or you know, if you're so h8gh 8nd might8 an8 th8nk you're so gr8at, m8y88 you c8uld oh I d8n't kn8w........   
GA: Before You Explode On Me  
GA: And Give Yourself A Panache That You Will Regret Later  
GA: Mcfussyfangs Simply Wanted To Know Why You Didnt Tell Her You Were Coming Over To Her Hive Today Thats All  
AG: It w8s supposed to 8e last n8ght 8ut my plans nev8r go the way I want them t8........   
GA: Of Course  
AG: Sh8t up, I’m expl8ning?  
GA: By All Means  
AG: Well, may8e I don’t w8nt to anymore!  
GA: Vriska  
AG: Fine.  
AG: Look, you said I could meet your lusus at some point, and this is that point! Ok????????  
GA: I Thought My Lusus Was Dumb  
AG: No, she’s cool. Just like you descri8ed her and junk. I guess she saved me too.  
GA: I Can Introduce The Two Of You Properly If You Would Prefer A Meeting That Doesnt Involve Teeth  
AG: May8e. It’s no 8ig deal. She has shadow droppers to eat.  
GA: Tomorrow  


A quiet falls over the block, only the gentle hum of the sewing machine filling it. Kanaya gets pinged again.

AG: I wanted to surprise visit you! You would 8e all “Wow, it’s the one and only Vriska Serket! What a surprise!” and I’d look cool and say “I’m here to m8ke your life less 8oring!” And you’d 8e thankful and acknowledge how much I enrich your experience on Alternia every single night!  
GA: Wow  
GA: Its The One And Only Vriska Serket  
AG: Shut up!  
GA: What A Surprise  
AG: I get it! It was a l8me and stup8d pla8 and I’m lam8 and st8p8d for m8kin8 it!   
AG: 8ITE M8!  
GA: The Robe Is Done By The Way  


arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling  grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling  grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

AG: Aaaaaaaah!  
AG: Man, why d8dn't I just get th8 last w8rd and sign off real qu8ck like I usu8lly do????????  
AG: Let you sne8k th8t stink8n' littl8 ninja quip in th8r8. Ah! So m8d.  
AG: Lousy st8pid godd8mn supportive fri8nd!  


arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling  grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

* * *

Kanaya doesn’t turn around, which infuriates Vriska to no end. She doesn’t even look like she noticed the last few messages! She would toss another pillow, but the amount of pillows would end up unacceptable. She was stuck.

The jade gets up, startling Vriska briefly, and she moves around the block, turning on dim lights all around. The sun is going down outside.

“Are you staying here then?” Vriska crosses her arms. “How long?”

Vriska mumbles something.

“What was that?”

“A few nights.”

“Hmm?”

“A FEW NIGHTS!”

Kanaya stares at her. She grabs the empty glass from the desk and starts fixing up the block quickly. “I will be turning in soon - will you as well?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m tired anyhow - it’s convenient!” Vriska tells her. Kanaya watches her carefully before nodding.

“Do you need the coon?”

Vriska gets uncomfortable at the question, blue crossing her gray features. “N-no. I’m absolutely fine without it! Just like I don’t need help with anything, I can handle dayterrors just fine! The pillows will do! There’s no dice stabbing me under these!”

“They’re not dayterrors if they happen at night.”

“ **Shut up.** ” Vriska imagines Kanaya starts ignoring her, but to the contrary, Kanaya is watching her even as she busies herself with tidying up the block. Vriska gets antsy. “What?”

“I’m not doing anything,” replies the Maryam, glancing away only just once.

“Yes, you are, you’re staring.” Kanaya smiles, though she looks a little exasperated. “ _What?_ ”

“You may not need any help, but you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Everyone has an important job, and that one is mine.” She pauses. “If not me, then who?” Vriska is quiet. “Don’t you think you will sleep on a few less hard triangles?” she jokes. Vriska rolls her eyes.

“So you’re going to spy on me? Look, I’m not staying for a stinkin’ perigee or anything! I just wanted to visit my weirdo friend for a little while, provide you with an entirely newfound appreciation for our friendship!” Vriska sticks her tongue out. “We’re supposed to be moirals after all, right? Something like that.”

Kanaya accidentally bumps into the tossed aside magic 8-ball, annoyed and flabbergasted as it rolls down the stairs, step by step, each thud making Vriska venture deeper into the pile of pillows. Kanaya sighs. What she said went completely over Vriska’s head - ironically, she still ended up at a similar point as her anyway.

“Something like that.”

The magic 8-ball rolls away from the bottom of the stairs, its single opening obscured by a potted plant it bumped into as it came to a rest in the crossing trestle connecting the main hive with the tower holding the Maryam’s respiteblock. It finally answers the shaking.

_Don’t count on it._

* * *

The sun is just beginning to filter through the open windows of Kanaya’s respiteblock as she awakens. Despite the slime clinging to her, she manages to be silent enough to not stir the tossing and turning troll hugging a pillow nearby. The pile is disheveled, as badly as her hair, and she makes a note to brush that mane later for the Serket’s sake and sanity. And her own, though she is sure she’ll go crazy once Vriska starts being difficult again.

She cleans up and changes quietly once she returns to her respiteblock. It feels odd, undressing with her moirail so near - someone she only met in person yesterday. Paranoia eats at her, though the minutes pass without an interruption. Chills aside, her blue floral dress allows her to soak in the sunlight and it spins with every precise movement she makes as she mops the floor.

The block warms her and it’s pleasant, though her guest starts to push objects off of her due to the heat. Vriska mumbles in her sleep. Kanaya tries to guess at what she says, but all she makes out is “pupa”. Nonsense insults brought out by a harsh dream, no doubt. Maybe Vriska is being vexed by some fantasy phantom she’s come to know in her dreams. She turns on the breeze blender, letting the spinning blades cool the respiteblock. After a minute, Vriska stops struggling so much in her slumber.

Upon finishing her cleaning, Kanaya quietly examines Vriska’s arm while she rests. Once again, the Serket made a big fuss over nothing. The dents are small, nearly unnoticeable, and clearly don’t interfere - she was drawing fine last night. Or writing. What was she doing, anyway?

Her nosiness knows no bounds. She carefully pries the bag away from the pile and seats herself on a discarded pillow, silently rummaging through the bag’s contents. She really wishes she could be surprised. Despite this being the first time she is ever physically near Vriska, everything in this bag makes perfect sense. There’s nothing in here to help out in an arduous trip through the desert. Just bullshit. Vriska can be called dangerous, but the right word is reckless.

The bag holds: seven exact duplicates of her usual outfit; three intact magic 8-balls, with what looks like the remains of four littering the bottom of the bag - the bag isn’t wet, though; a garish blue coat; a single scuffed up pair of red boots; and several notebooks full of drawings and stories.

She grabs the top notebook with a sigh and thumbs through it - this was the one Vriska was working on last night. She reaches the most recent page and pauses. Well, now she’s surprised.

It’s Kanaya, a long, elegant dress adorning her form. Her skin is pale white and her eyes glow. Elegantly, she points directly to the viewer - as if beckoning or accusing. The drawing isn’t even crude, Kanaya should give Vriska the benefit of the doubt… sometimes. Kanaya looks nice in this fictionalized version of herself.

“What are you doing!”

Busted. Feigning astonishment, Kanaya drops the notebook onto the bag and covers her cheeks with her palms. “Oh, no. You’ve discovered me.” She really doesn’t think this is a big deal, but she has no doubt that the Serket will cry foul regardless.

“Kanaya, what the fuck!” Vriska groans, eye squinting in the light. She lazily shuffles in the pile to get closer. “That’s not done!”

“It’s lovely. Is this me as a rainbow drinker? I thought you held the mindset of this being a lame and stupid fantasy of mine. Are you a liar, Vriska Serket? Do you in fact also imagine me lighting an entire hive simply from my presence? What other sordid affairs do you hide within your think pan?” Kanaya asks, a smile playing at her lips. She grabs the notebook and tosses it toward Vriska. It lands on her face. The Serket stills and doesn’t make a single motion to remove it.

“Fuck off.”

Undeterred, she looks within the bag again. Upon closer inspection, actually, Kanaya discovers that there are dozens upon dozens of dice held in the broken magic 8-ball containers - nothing but d4s and d20s.

“Why do you only have two kinds of hard triangles? Why are they in these broken containers?”

“D20s don’t count as triangles. And shut up,” Vriska argues, despite those not being answers. Kanaya grabs a handful and lets them drop, not recording the numbers in her mind. She squints into the bag. There’s a... cobweb?

“What is this?” Kanaya asks in disgust, pulling it out.

“Just toss it,” Vriska murmurs, grabbing it and tossing it onto the floor. Kanaya immediately picks it up, and any other strands within the bag, bundling it in her fist. “Kaaaaaaaan!”

“This belongs in a dross coffer. Or, nowhere. Or your _hive_ , I guess, due to your lusus being something that exists.” Vriska groans into the notebook. “I’ve handed you your horns. Accept defeat. Go quietly into that good night.” Whatever Vriska says is muffled. Kanaya shakes her head. “There’s an ablution trap in the main area of the hive - go clean up. I’ll meet you in the meal block.”

She moves the notebook off of her face finally, expression sly. “You’re not going to spy on me, are you?”

Kanaya kicks her in the shin. Vriska is too busy cursing a storm into the pillows to see the jade blush as Kanaya retreats downstairs.

* * *

Vriska barely manages to drag herself up the stairs to the top of the hive, reminded of her own hive’s stupid staircases. The exhaustion from the previous day has tainted today. All she wants to do is lie down and sleep some more, not go along with Kanaya’s dumb demand to start the day with her. What’s the point in that?

Minutes later, she remembers: food.

“Did the sponge inside your skull forget you need food to survive or do you normally wait days before eating something?” asks Kanaya, decked out in a completely new pointless blue dress today. It’s not even the right shade. Vriska ignores her. “I ask out of genuine concern and not mockery.”

“Shurt app,” Vriska responds through a mouth full of tuber paste. Shoving another handful down her chagrin tunnel, she busies herself with gorging on food instead of watching how insanely slowly Kanaya enjoys the first meal of the day. She’s slow and deliberate and it’s clear she savors every single bite. She asks questions occasionally, getting half-hearted grunts in reply as the morning goes on in an achingly slow pace.

“Did you have difficulty with your ablution?”

“Was your dream as bad as it seemed?”

“Please use the utensils.”

So many questions.

The sun lights the blocks in ways Vriska is not used to - everything is bright and clear, so much so that her poor eyesight is hardly an issue. She can really _see_ what Kanaya looks like now, in person.

Her skin looks like it really does glow under the sun’s rays. Her lips are stained a deeper shade of black but she manages to easily not smudge it as she eats. Her hair is up in the same way as it always is but Vriska can tell the amount of work put into it now. She obviously takes care of herself well. Every part of her is deliberate, just like her words. Even the dress she’s chosen flatters her well, making her like a bright beacon of sunshine. It’s sickening.

She’s beautiful.

“Vriska?”

Vriska is jostled out of her thoughts and she almost gags on her next bite - she forces the food down her gullet and takes a breath. “Wh-what, huh?”

Kanaya looks at her quizzically. “I asked why did you draw me last night.”

She swallows reflexively. “Oh.” Caught off-guard, she panics for a moment before settling on an answer that is half-right. “I just wanted to draw you looking cool! It’d be a nice change of pace for you.”

Kanaya doesn’t laugh. Her eyes scrutinize the Serket before rolling. From under the table, Vriska gets a kick in the shin again. She hisses, and _that_ makes Kanaya laugh. “Do you have an actual answer for my question? You’ve never been intentionally cruel to me.” Vriska raises an eyebrow at the use of the word “intentionally” but doesn’t make a fuss over it.

She sighs and squirms in her seat but relents under Kanaya’s gaze. “It’s not done! It’s my concept of your FLARP character. My plan was to bestow her upon you with an already masterfully filled character sheet, and then you could make her costume! Wouldn’t that be fun? You’ve always asked a bunch about my FLARPing games.”

Stabbing a piece of meat, Kanaya leaves the fork standing upright as she drums on the table lightly. “You realize making a dress like that would take more than a few days, right?”

Vriska nods without really getting it. Kanaya allows the silence to persist until she does. “Oh.” She frowns. That’s yet another plan doomed from the start. “Well, there goes all my plans for my stay. I shouldn’t have bothered coming, clearly! All this trouble to stick around for a few days, all for nothing! Great!”

Kanaya reaches over and prevents Vriska from tossing food in fury, clamping her hand down around the very slender wrist of the Serket. “We can do other things besides FLARPing.”

Vriska makes a face but calms down, aggressively poking her food as the silence fills the block. “Fine.” Visit salvaged. Kanaya watches her, then gets a look on her face. Vriska doesn’t like it. “What?”

“Don’t you have to feed your lusus?” she asks, concerned. Always with the concern. Vriska waves it away, mashing more food into her mouth like an efficient slob.

“Don’t worry about that - I have that taken care of!”

Kanaya is skeptical. “If you say so.”

* * *

“Equius, hold the legs! _No_ , I don’t care if your hands are sweaty! Just help!”

A sickening ripping sound fills the castle-hall as a pile of guts stream onto the floor, coating the trolls’ legs in blood and viscera.

“ **Fiddlesticks!** ”

* * *

“What are you doing out there?” Vriska groans, staying within the comfortable shade of the hive as she watches Kanaya trim the lush oasis surrounding it. Those trees are weird to Vriska, she’s not used to seeing any. “Don’t you have to worry about bark gnomes?”

“Bark gnomes are not real,” Kanaya calmly responds, cutting off a mess of a branch and the leaves that were poking out oddly. She picks it up a moment later, venturing to another tree to trim it as well. “Would you like an umbrella to join me out here?”

“First of all, you’re asking for bark gnomes to sneak into your hive at night and steal all your stuff. Second, why!” Vriska whines, glaring at the light. “Why do you spend so much time outside? You’re ruining my visit!”

“I like the outside.” They’re quiet after that, with Vriska only occasionally making some kind of annoyed noise as she stares at Kanaya swaying and dancing with the trees as she cares for them. The wind blows sand, shifting dunes into different shapes, but this glorified lawn seems untouched by the elements. It’s a bright spot on a barren hellscape called Alternia.

Vriska thinks she should hate it more. But she’s never liked her hive. Not even a little. Her tastes changed over the sweeps. Being able to experience something else is almost comfortable. Even with all the blistering sunlight, the hive screams “pleasant”. It’s not so hot that Vriska is dying too. That’s a plus. Just a tiny one.

“Oh. A moment, Vriska,” Kanaya suddenly says, putting down the chainsaw and walking off from the front of the hive, leaving the Serket’s view. Vriska tries sticking her head out but the heat landing on her skull is unbearable. She retreats and waits.

She’s surprised when Kanaya appears from above, setting down again on the ground with a giant shadow overlapping her form. What? _Oh._

“Less teeth this time,” is all the Maryam says at first, stepping a foot away from the very large lusus flanking her. “This is Vriska Serket. I have spoken about her before - don’t give me that face, she is allowed to be here.” Vriska stares up at the Mother Grub, a little hesitant to get closer. The skull-like face is unnerving. “Vriska, this is my lusus. She is apologetic over any damage or trauma she may have caused.”

The lusus chitters at Kanaya and Vriska. The former crosses her arms.

“Yes, you are. You may have meant well, but you scared her half to death. You are sorry.”

“I wasn’t scared!” Vriska suddenly yells, and the two figures outside give her the same blank expression. “She doesn’t have to apologize, she’s- whatever, okay? I wasn’t scared.” The Mother Grub chitters again, but Vriska doesn’t get it. Her head starts to hurt. Rubbing her elbow awkwardly, she suddenly turns. “I… I’ll be in your block. It’s hot down here.”

Kanaya is quiet as Vriska retreats further into the hive. A nudge from her lusus reminds her of where she is and she sighs. She gives her a pat and returns to what she was doing.

Visit salvaged, indeed.

* * *

Kanaya almost goes the entire day without seeing Vriska again. Instead, she only sees evidence of her. A discarded carton, a clump of hair (she really has to brush that for her), a discarded die in a corner, and yet another magic 8-ball at the bottom of the stairs leading up to her respiteblock.

_Outlook not so good._

She wonders what Vriska asked to make her toss it away at that response. No, wait - rolling down the stairs would have stirred the contents inside again. Well, shit. This is a rogue answer. What is it answering? Nobody knows. It is a hell of a mystery that no one considers a mystery, it doesn’t really need solving, and damn if it won’t ever get solved.

“Nice, I guess.” She collects the two magic 8-balls now making the start of a pile and carries them upstairs. “It is I, Kanaya Maryam, announcing my presence prior to entering a block in my own hive!” she calls up, and she hears something drop and cursing fill the silence of her respiteblock, along with a dozen papers being shuffled around and grabbed.

A third magic 8-ball starts rolling down the stairs. Kanaya stops it short. Why is she holding three magic 8-balls in her arms now? Who decided this should happen? They are a fool.

Breaching into the interior of the respiteblock, Kanaya discovers… Vriska, sitting cross-legged on the pile of pillows, head resting on the intertwined fingers behind her. She looks completely, perfectly innocent. Kanaya’s face immediately fills with suspicion.

“McFussyfangs,” Vriska greets her with that annoying pet name, looking as casual as any troll could ever be.

“Vriska.” Kanaya examines the block carefully as she walks over to Vriska’s bag and deposits the magic 8-balls. Nothing looks out of place aside from some pillows. “How did you spend your day?”

“Didn’t do anything,” she answers easily. She’s lying. Kanaya squints. “I checked on Equius, napped. That’s it. Why?”

Kanaya doesn’t answer. “How is your neighbor?”

Vriska’s expression doesn’t change in the slightest. “He’s fine.”

The Maryam genuinely wonders if the blueblood is dead. Is Vriska’s hive still standing? Is her lusus rampaging across the surface of Alternia? Has Doomsday begun? Anything is possible when Vriska lies. Anything. Instead of filling herself with worry, though, Kanaya strides over to her desk and fishes out a hair brush.

Vriska’s eye narrows. “Brushing your hair?” she asks suspiciously.

“Brushing hair,” Kanaya answers.

“ _Your_ hair?”

“ _Hair._ ”

Vriska, suddenly on edge, looks nearly meowbeast-like as she sits up, hands extended as if she’s ready to bound away on all fours. She absolutely _is_ , but Kanaya is blocking the only exit. She brandishes the brush like a weapon. A cold dread fills the block between the alert trolls. A bead of sweat rolls off of Vriska’s forehead. It hits the floor. Vriska moves _first_!

The battle is hard-fought and there are many casualties. Scattered notebooks, pillows, dice, and fabric litter the floor of the respiteblock, as are clumps of hair and somehow _another_ string of cobweb. In-between the wardrobe and Kanaya’s bookcase, though, is the fallen Vriska Serket, pinned beneath a very strong, and demanding, jade blood, wild mane being painfully disentangled and brushed against her will.

“I should give you braids.”

“ **You will not!** ”

* * *

Vriska’s ever-present glare reminds Kanaya of a cat forced to take a bath. The distrust, yet familiarity keeps the creature near yet hostility is always clear. Her hair, at least, is managed. No matter all of Vriska’s attempts to fray it and tangle it, Kanaya did a solid job in wrestling it under control in that hour. It should last a few days, at the very least.

“I’m sleeping soon,” she remarks, sewing machine rumbling softly as she meshes streaks of red, blue, and green together. Vriska, still watching her carefully, doesn’t immediately respond. “Vriska?”

“How come you spent most of the day outside?” she asks quietly, catching Kanaya off-guard. “I figured you’d want to spend time with me if I visited.” Kanaya glances back, but Vriska’s expression is unreadable. She rolls one of her many dice onto a notebook full of red scribbles.

“I have chores to do. I can’t drop everything just because you’re here. There are responsibilities I have taken upon myself to fulfill,” Kanaya answers evenly, choosing her words carefully. “If you had warned me of your imminent arrival, maybe I could have done some things ahead of time.”

Vriska rolls another die. It must not be favorable because she curses. She rolls again, grumbling. “But you don’t _have_ to do them.”

“I _want_ to do them. Vriska, I like doing the things I do.” The sewing machine stops. Kanaya carefully pulls the big sheet of fabric onto her lap, fingers feeling along the stitching carefully.

“Don’t you like me?”

Kanaya pales for a moment, eyes lifting from the sheet to Vriska, scrutinizing her carefully. The Serket is still looking down at her notebook, not facing Kanaya in the slightest. Throat feeling dry, Kanaya clears it before speaking. “I- of course, Vriska. But I can’t drop everything for you.”

Vriska rolls her die again. Twice. Thrice. She murmurs something unintelligible. Kanaya finds the silence uncomfortable.

“Are you sleeping soon?”

“Yeah,” Vriska answers, scratching her face.

“You know, you don’t have to sleep when I do. I know you don’t like the sun; you can sleep earlier or later to fix your-”

Closing the notebook harshly, a die still locked inside, Vriska whirls around on Kanaya. “No, your suggestion is stupid! I don’t care about the sun, I’m fine! I can sleep whenever I want, I’m not copying you!”

Kanaya waits a moment before collecting herself, standing up with the giant blanket in tow. “Of course. Even though it’s _my_ hive, and _my_ respiteblock, you are free to do whatever you want.” She steps up to Vriska, expression firm and rigid. “Except this. Get up.”

“What?” Before she knows it, she’s hauled to her feet and gets pushed toward the corner of the block, nearly tripping on a red carpet-like fabric in front of the coon. “I don’t-”

“We’re taking turns while you’re here. One night is mine, one night is yours. It should be enough to keep us both calm during the day,” Kanaya calmly explains, and she takes off Vriska’s jacket before the other has a chance to protest further. “I’m taking the pillows tonight. I made myself a nice big blanket that you’ll have to ask nicely and politely to use tomorrow.”

“Kan-!”

Vriska is promptly shoved through the opening into the vat of sopor slime.

“Goodnight.”

* * *

Vriska is the first to use the ablution trap the next morning, leaving Kanaya to clean the mess in her wake. She’s starting to feel like a maid, but can’t argue that she isn’t used to this kind of work - she simply isn’t used to the messes being caused by someone she cares about. It’s an odd feeling for her. She both minds and doesn’t mind.

She makes a discovery a couple of minutes into the morning while she’s basking in the sunlight and collecting any leftover trash Vriska had left the prior evening. The warmth of the sun’s rays feel lovely on her gray skin but they soon cease to warm her. A cold feeling runs through her as she finds scraps of paper Vriska had tossed out, likely before Kanaya had entered the block.

Harsh, deep red writing mars the discarded pages. Some are words, curses, affirmations of bad luck, and crude phrases likely done in anger. There’s drawings, though they seem to have been thrown away due to perceived problems. There’s several unfinished ones of Kanaya’s lusus and Kanaya herself, most having her in the midst of her topiary hobby.

What bothers Kanaya are all the crumpled pages stating Vriska’s self-hatred. Over and over, she calls herself stupid, dumb, lazy, and number of monikers she feels she’s earned. Kanaya wonders why Vriska feels this way.

Quietly, she keeps them trashed, for Vriska’s sake. They were tossed away, after all. That might be a good sign.

She folds the blanket she slept with and places it next to the large pile of pillows, which she just neatly piled in the corner again. Thinking ahead, she lays out one of Vriska’s identical outfits on the desk, knowing the Serket had forgotten to take a set when she went to clean herself from the sopor.

The outfit of the day is a long, flowing green dress that reaches to her ankles, a purple sash wrapped around her waist keeping it from billowing too much in the wind. She steals away to the meal block before Vriska exits the shower, likely nude or dressed in her soiled clothing - both possibilities upsets Kanaya for a multitude of reasons. She distracts herself with making breakfast.

* * *

A loud burp calls an end to the meal, courtesy of one modest Vriska Serket. While seeming more animated today than last night, she has yet to speak much with Kanaya beyond a few words. She’s simply eaten. Messes are made, messes which Kanaya has to clean up after with little thanks in return. Kanaya gets exasperated further as the morning works its way through the world.

The unpleasant noise draws her out of her silence. “Thank you. With that, I think I’ll go outside and trim the lawn. You are free to do what you like-”

“Wait.” Vriska bounds upstairs. Even from this distance, the sounds of the Serket roughly rummaging through her bag echoes down the halls to Kanaya’s keen ears. The noise is joined by quick footfalls, a curse after a peculiar thud, and the wheezing of her hive guest as she rejoins her in the meal block. Kanaya eyes her curiously as she catches her breath, holding two worn notebooks. “Okay. Okay, so where’s that stupid umbrella?”

A sarcastic comment grows within the jade’s throat but she kills it before it can escape. The wrong word might send Vriska crawling back upstairs, as silent as breakfast. Instead, she fetches the umbrella, a particularly large one that is enough for two people to sit under comfortably.

Vriska is not very pleased over its size, but carries it outside all the same. Once Kanaya decides what area she will be focusing on for the afternoon, Vriska stabs the umbrella into the ground with a grunt, clapping her hands at a job well done before plotting her butt down on the grass.

Kanaya watches her expectantly as she begins to trim some of the grass. It doesn’t take long for Vriska to situate herself and flip open a notebook. She clears her throat, glances at Kanaya to make sure she has her attention… and begins to read.

They’re fantastical stories. More of this Marquise character Vriska has spoken about many times before now, but Kanaya can’t tell if it’s simply a character or a person of historical note. The Serket has always said she was hatched to be a gamblignant, though these tall tales tended to veer off from simple roguish exploits and masterful thievery on the high seas. There’s romance, betrayal, and mystery - as much as in those “sordid” novels Vriska admonishes her for reading.

It doesn’t take long for Kanaya to understand why Vriska decided to turn this into the story hour. She begins telling her about this character she intends Kanaya to be - the Dolorosa. Kanaya rolls her eyes several times during the constant talking, wondering if Vriska really knew her all that well. She would _never_ abandon her duties like that. That said, she still likes the rainbow drinker angle of the story.

The big surprise comes when Vriska’s character enters into what clearly seems like a complicated, yet exciting romance with Kanaya’s character. Wide-eyed, she continues trimming, nearly cleaving off a larger portion of grass than she wants when Vriska gets graphic.

“Vriska, is… why are they matesprits, despite the horrible circumstances?” she asks, interrupting the storyteller at one point. Vriska looks at her like she’s grown a second head.

“They’re not matesprits.”

What? “Vriska. They clearly seem to have something akin to a flushed relationship.”

Vriska blushes this time, as if only realizing what she’s been suggesting for the past hour. “It’s just how it is!” Vriska speed-reads through some of it again, glancing at Kanaya a few times. “I mean, I guess we can’t roleplay some of it anyway! I can’t exactly control your mind - I’ve tried.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind that,” she waves Kanaya away. “Stop interrupting! Dualscar is about to mess things up - by the way, your sash is a terrible color, you should change your outfit.”

“ _Vriska._ ”

“ **Anyway!** ”

Though she later begins to interrupt her own story to complain about the heat, Vriska settles into a comfortable groove with Kanaya’s chores for the next few hours. Of course, it’s mingled with breaks, where several times Kanaya has to go inside to get Vriska water, but they manage to have a pleasant afternoon, basking in the oasis hugging Kanaya’s hive.

Kanaya is surprised to know just how creative and imaginative Vriska has become as she seriously can’t tell if Vriska is reading off of some fictional, or possibly non-fictional, historical notes or her own work. FLARPing is clearly near and dear to her pumper. She should consider treating Vriska’s hobby more seriously, she realizes, especially if she’s going to participate at some point.

* * *

“More water? Mm. I’ll be back in a moment,” Kanaya tells her. Vriska mutters a thank you, mouth dry from all the talking she’s done today, and lies down on the grass. Her eye strays as she waits for Fussyfangs. It dances along the horizon, dizzy at how far across the desert looks from here.

“Will the sun ever die?” she asks out loud. Lazily, she moves the black oracle in front of her face and squints to read its answer, shaking it just a moment. “Come on, you inaccurate, useless circle.”

_Ask again later._

She feels a rumble beneath her before she can scream at it. It’s not the first time she feels it too. She assumes it must be Kanaya’s lusus, otherwise Kanaya would be very concerned. Right? She’s not too cool to feign stoicism when she should panic, so Vriska is probably fine. Her eye is drawn to one of the nearby holes in the sand, though.

Impulse tugs on her curiosity.

Getting up, she tucks her notebooks under her arm, lifts the umbrella, and holds it awkwardly over her chest and tucked under her neck so she can reach down and grab her magic 8-ball too. She sneakily walks across the lush oasis onto the desert sand, hissing at the uncomfortable heat under her sneakers with every crunch of her footfalls. Once she nears the nearest hole, she plants the umbrella by the edge and peeks over the edge.

A growl alarms her as a shadow dropper tries to jump and swipe at her face, hunger written on its rotten features. It tries again, and again, but Vriska keeps out of reach. Her momentary panic turns into a sadistic glee.

“Hungry, huh? Ironic! ‘Cause you’re the one that’s gonna be grubsauce soon! Hahahahahahahaha!” she cackles, giving that panless zombie a good burn. Being her awesome self, she starts taunting the zombie, using her magic 8-ball as a poker. Every single time it tries to swipe at her, she hits it with the ball, cackling like a hyena with each successful attempt.

She fails to notice the unstable nature of sand, no matter how compacted it’s become. A rumble interrupts her fun. The umbrella had damaged the edge, which she is bracing herself against to reach down into the hole - all it needs is a good shake to break. Her eye barely manages to get a moment to widen when the sand crumbles, spilling her torso into the hole, along with the umbrella.

As she screams, the zombie snarling up at the intruding troll, she panics and smashes the black sphere over its head, covering it in blue and possibility. A slender hand manages to suddenly grab her by the jacket before she falls, then the shoulder. With considerable strength being demonstrated, she is pulled back and tossed aside like a ragdoll, saved - though the sun immediately attacks her too.

“Vriska!” Kanaya’s voice nearby scolds her in anger, yet her voice is filled with concern as always. She rushes over to the troll and covers her, the shadow bringing momentary relief for the reckless Serket. She looks up briefly at Kanaya, then to the hole where the umbrella is now perfectly covering it. That could have gone much worse. “What were you doing?!”

Shame crosses her face, but it’s quickly replaced by anger. “I was just having some fun! It’s boring here, can you cut me some slack?!”

“Fun? You almost fell - you could have been ripped apart by that shadow dropper! Or worse, been eaten alive by my lusus!” she tells her, doing her best to keep her shadow over Vriska as the hot sun scorches the ground around them. Almost on cue, another rumble shakes the hole Vriska almost fell in - the umbrella jostles as the sounds of bone crunching echoes from within the trap.

Vriska fumes. “Yet another stupid moment for Vriska! I get it, I’m a dumbass! The world loves reminding me plenty enough! Leave me alone!” Before Kanaya can do anything, Vriska gets up and braves the sunlight. She grabs her notebooks and flees back into the hive, leaving Kanaya alone. Behind her, the Mother Grub floats the umbrella out of the hole, looking at it puzzlingly. She chitters at Kanaya.

Rubbing her face tiredly, she walks over and collects it from her before apologizing and returning to the hive. It’s too complicated to explain what happened. Her lusus stays puzzled for a few moments before returning to feeding.

* * *

After finishing her chores, Kanaya returns to her respiteblock - she refrains from jokingly announcing her presence, hoping her footsteps would be enough in case Vriska is in a compromising position.

Thankfully, that’s not the case. Vriska is back to drawing, using the remaining light outside to sketch the area around the hive. She glances up when Kanaya enters but doesn’t say anything; she flips a page in the notebook and starts drawing something new, angry.

Kanaya starts cleaning up, taking advantage of the lull in the day to have some semblance of order in her hive. Half an hour passes quietly like this. The daylight is all but gone by the time one of them speaks: of course, it’s Kanaya.

“Fun. There are many ways to have fun in my hive,” she says, as if beginning an essay on the merits of jollification in an isolated sahara during the day. “If you want to have fun, we can play a game.”

“All my games are stupid,” mumbles Vriska, waving away the idea. Kanaya sighs. She would broach the subject, but she’s not sure if it would do more harm than good. Vriska is clearly being hard on herself for what Kanaya suspects is just acting on impulses. Everyone does that - some are dangerous because of it. But dangerous people can still be important.

Vriska isn’t less for it.

“How about we watch a movie?” inquires Kanaya, hands folded in her lap as she sits down on the large pile of pillows. “I have plenty. Perhaps a horror movie?”

Vriska sighs this time, flipping her notebook closed. “Do we have to?”

Kanaya frowns and is immediately incensed. Why does she have to be difficult about this? She is only trying to include her, something she clearly wanted since she arrived! And after all she has done for her today! “Vriska Serket, I have waited on you _prong_ and _nub_ all day. The least you can do is indulge me _once_ and watch a movie I like!”

Vriska grumbles and slaps the notebook on the ground by the pile, standing up from her chair but being difficult about it. “Fine! Fine, fine, fine, we’ll watch your cruddy movie!” she relents, sitting down next to Kanaya and crossing her arms.

“It will be entertaining, I promise,” Kanaya tells her calmly. She gets up from the pile to fetch her husktop and places it in front of them, sitting back down carefully next to her hive guest. She considers the titles she has downloaded, but tries to do it quickly - she knows Vriska has absolutely no patience, especially while she’s angry.

“Ah, this will do,” Kanaya says, though Vriska is quick to interrupt before she picks it.

“What’s the movie called?”

Kanaya sighs. “Ahem. ‘In which two young blue-blooded flushmates in the throes of fresh romance go out for adventure; one refuses to believe the other about a particularly odd looking camp; it's left unclear whether the key antagonist is a figment of overactive young adult imagination; approximately .86th of a bucket is filled early in the film; an odd retired subjugglator, enjoying the benefits of his empire-mandated rest and relaxation, warns the leading duo of entering the camp with which they plan to sleep in for at least two days; there are approximately two humorous moments, one of which was unintentional on the part of the director but well-acclaimed by all reviewers; twenty jump-scares, and forty minutes are solely dedicated to attempting psychological horror; one bark beast is killed off-screen and used as a warning for the young adult trolls; the ending of the film is left ambiguous as to whether or not they survive, and there is only one romantic kiss at the climax when the younger of the two saves the other from the unnatural horror attempting to cull them.’ It has decent reviews,” she tells Vriska. “I’ve seen it twice.”

Vriska shrugs. “It probably sucks, but sure! Put it on, knock yourself out.”

Kanaya rolls her eyes and lets it play, shuffling a bit in the piles to get comfortable, though it’s difficult at first with how close Vriska is. She isn’t used to close proximity with another troll.

Vriska, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care too much and hogs most of the pile, her long skinny legs ending up partially on Kanaya’s lap. The first five minutes are uneventful, just the two protagonists deciding on where they want to go for their excursion - at the first jump scare, Vriska nearly jumps out of her own skin. “ **Fuck!** ”

Kanaya manages it better, having seen it coming already. Feeling adventurous herself, and helpful as always, she offers Vriska a way to calm down, “You can hold my hand if it becomes too scary for you.”

“It’s _not_ too scary for me! Besides, your hand will probably get sweaty and that’ll just remind me of Zahhak - I don’t need that right now!” Vriska shoots it down, disappointing the Maryam, but five minutes later she’s almost clinging to Kanaya’s arm, visibly shaking and staring wide-eyed at the screen while her nails dig into the jade’s skin. Kanaya can’t help but blush at the prolonged contact, but luckily the darkness of the block conceals it. She barely registers the pain of the nails.

Unfortunately, Vriska’s patience seems to count with entertainment too. “Okay, that’s it,” she yells after a particularly bad jumpscare. “Fuck this movie. It’s stupid, you should’ve picked a different one.” She untangles from Kanaya, reaches over the pile, and grabs her notebook from the floor, pulling it close and stuffing her face in it so she can read something old that she wrote. Kanaya quickly pauses the movie, a little upset at this interruption, and stares at Vriska’s back.

“If you don’t like it, I can choose another one,” she argues, saddened by the loss of contact. She had just been getting used to it too. It was nice to feel needed by Vriska. “We don’t have to-”

“ _No_ , I don’t want to watch a movie. We should sleep, it’s late anyway,” Vriska mumbles, barely audible due to her notebook covering her mouth.

“‘It’s late,’ says the nocturnal troll,” Kanaya comments, earning her a pillow to the face. She sighs and gets up, seeing as how it’s her turn for the coon, and now the evening is sufficiently ruined. She lingers, though.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” she asks.

“No, not really,” comes the muffled answer. “Oh. Tomorrow is my last day here. I’ll leave in the morning, I guess. Can’t stay much longer.”

Kanaya doesn’t ask why. A strange feeling flows through her - one of relief, yet dismay. It feels like something is being interrupted right in the middle of whatever it is. It feels like a pressure will be taken off of her shoulders soon enough, but she’s not sure if she wants it gone. She cleans up while she thinks of something to say, gathering the remaining three magic 8-balls into their bag.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” she suddenly asks Vriska. “It doesn’t have to be different offline as we are online.” There’s a tiredness that holds onto the words, as if putting herself out there so much has taken a toll, but she pushes those words along regardless. It’s painfully selfless. Something that doesn’t seem caught by Vriska.

“Yeah, sure.”

Kanaya lingers still, playing with a piece of her jade dress between her fingers. “What were you drawing when I came into the block? If it’s okay for me to ask.” A sigh escapes the Serket but she finally turns face-up, flipping to the page to show Kanaya a desert full of holes. It’s hard to tell what it is, at first.

“Your lusus’ feeding holes. She wasn’t visiting many of them,” she remarks. “I just felt like drawing them.”

Maybe because she almost fell in one. “Right. Well, I know why she hasn’t - there’s no food in many of them. Hunting hasn’t been going well for her lately.”

Vriska is quiet for a moment. Kanaya almost turns to the coon but Vriska finally says something. “That’s why there was only one shadow dropper in there, huh?”

“...yes.” Kanaya looks at Vriska for a moment, wondering if the conversation would continue. It doesn’t. Quietly, she goes to her coon.

* * *

When Kanaya wakes and drags the green slime with her onto the floor of her respiteblock, Vriska is nowhere to be found. For a moment, Kanaya thinks the Serket has left but notices her belongings still remain. The sun is already shining through her windows - she must have woken up later than usual. She starts her day with little fuss.

After a quick ablution and wardrobe change, Kanaya finds Vriska stuffing her face in the meal block, straight out of the thermal hull. Looks like the heat is making her want to keep extra cool. She stomps over and slams the door shut in front of her face, startling her out of her trance.

“What the fuck, Kan! I was eating!”

“You invite interruption by your mere existence,” Kanaya tells her, eyes judging the Serket harshly. “Vriska, do you not remember what I said last night? My lusus hasn’t been able to find many meals on her hunts - I need to keep food in reserves in case she runs out.”

The cross look gets through to Vriska quickly - sloppily, she wipes away at her face with her own jacket, smearing something purple-colored onto her clothes that Kanaya doesn’t remember ever being in the hunger trunk. She narrows her eyes at the stains.

“That’s right, I forgot. Duh, figured as much,” she mumbles, but her gaze seems elsewhere, like the conversation is only background noise. What is she thinking?

“Vriska?” Kanaya gets a bad feeling over the blueblood. She snaps her fingers in front of her face, catching her attention.

“Huh?” she asks, looking up at Kanaya finally. It’s like she’s finally registering she’s really there. Her gaze drifts down, then up, as if shamelessly checking out the Maryam. The neat troll fights back a blush. “You look... good.” So much for fighting. “Easily the best outfit yet, Fussyfangs.” A grin is on her face.

Kanaya looks down at herself, donned in a multi-shade red dress that has no qualms about touching the ground. A black sash with her symbol emblazoned on it sits at her waist. Similarly colored sleeves adorn her arms, the fabric soft and see-through.

Of course Vriska would like the red. It’s her favorite color, as far as Kanaya can tell. She gives a spin for good measure, getting a praising clap in return from her audience. She can’t remember what they were just talking about - oh, but Kanaya immediately spots the mess again.

“Go get cleaned up,” she tells her, grabbing a napkin and dabbing at Vriska’s cheeks before she can protest. “You ruined this jacket, put on one of the others you brought. Now I’m going to water my plants, you should help me.”

“Ugh, okay! So bossy all the time, how does your lusus not get sick of it?” mutters Vriska as she pushes past Kanaya and heads upstairs. Though she hardly needs to apply more, Kanaya busies herself by reapplying her black lipstick. They may already be black, but they can always be **blacker**.

A loud thud signals Vriska’s re-arrival, having launched herself from the eighth step less-than-gracefully to skip the full trip down the stairs. Her feet clearly sting but she tries to play it off like they don’t. Kanaya sees right through the attempt, but doesn’t mention anything.

“Have you ever watered a plant?”

“Kanaya, no. In fact, I don’t think many people on this planet have that skill, just as I’m sure many people on this planet don’t have most of the skills or hobbies _you_ tote around,” comes the snarky reply. Case in point, Vriska jabs her in the mid-section with a careless finger. “When’s the last time you met a troll who cared about their looks?”

That earns Vriska a roll of her eyes. “Everyday I realize Alternia is my own personal hell.” She shoves Vriska toward the sink. “Now hush up, we have watering to do. They need water, not bullshit.”

* * *

The day passes too quickly for Kanaya’s taste. It feels like life is trying to get rid of Vriska from her hive as soon as it can. The day has been terribly pleasant on top of that too, making it so bittersweet. The heat isn’t unbearable for her hive guest, clouds have softened the sun’s rays so she hardly needs the umbrella, and, for the most part, they hadn’t butted heads all afternoon.

With evening comes a wind-down. The last few hours were spent talking about nothing in particular. Vriska recounted some tales, Kanaya talked about her current projects. There was a comfortable groove to it at all. In a few hours, it will be gone. Every time Vriska moves to another block, or she has to finish a chore really quickly, Kanaya can’t help but linger in her presence. There’s always something at the tip of her tongue, but it never leaves her lips.

It’s maddening. Perhaps, it’s unwarranted as well. Should their friendship be more than what it is? Would Vriska ever want something like that? Unlikely, Kanaya determines. There’s a longing, though. A need to be needed. It hurts the longer it festers.

Maybe she should say something, or bring up a topic that may lead into it. Idly, Kanaya runs a slender digit along the spine of one of her many fancied books. Perhaps these tomes have filled her mind with expectations life can never hope to meet.

“Vriska?” Kanaya says, looking around the block. To her surprise, the troll isn’t there. How long has she been caught within her own thoughts? When was the last time she saw her? She tries again. “Vriska?” All she notices are two black oracles missing. Leaving the pile, she heads to the stairs when the last vestiges of light outside give her a glance of a shadow.

Turning to the window, she sees a silhouette get smaller and smaller as it heads in the direction of the nearby ruins.

“Vriska?”

* * *

This plan may be just as stupid as it looks, but Vriska is determined to carry it all the way through; she will prove to herself and to Kanaya that her plans can work sometimes! She’ll stop babying her once she knows how smart she can be and then this trip won’t have been for nothing!

Her lusus doesn’t have enough food, right? Then Vriska’ll just bring her food!

On the trip here, she had encountered a large horde of these stupid zombies. Okay, not a horde, but like there was at least fifteen! That will be enough for Kanaya’s lusus to last a perigee, right? Even if isn’t, it’ll be something! Last time, she managed to mostly sneak by them but this time she’s going to corral them toward the hive. Nothing can go wrong!

With the sun almost gone, she steals away across the desert sands to these partially submerged ruins she saw days earlier. Sand and volcanic ash drowns the place, but she is sure the volcano isn’t active anymore. Totally safe! Aside from zombies, of course. But that’s the whole point!

The heated sand is not even a small deterrence as she sneaks into the ruins, getting into her Hunting Mode, which she totally has. It’s no different from finding suckers to beat at FLARPing so she can feed her own lusus! See? She even has experience in this very thing, sorta!

Dust and sand scatter due to the wind, coating the area in almost fog-like fashion. Sure, she has poor eyesight, but shadow droppers are dead, right? She’ll totally have better eyesight with just a single eye than they do with two rotting ones.

She’s quiet, sneaky, and stealthy - everything is going according to plan. Until, of course, it stops going according to plan.

When she runs into a wall, Vriska is surprised when the wall moves - oh, no, are the ruins that fragile? Did she give herself away to the likely zombies hidden here? Then the wall takes a swipe at her and she starts to realize that this is maybe not a wall.

“Oh.”

The undead lunges for her and she just manages to smash one of her magic 8-balls over its head, stunning it. Of course, she thinks she killed it. “Take that, you stupid zombie!” Seeing a figure in the billowing sand, she tosses her second magic 8-ball at it, knocking it down when the inaccurate oracle hits it dead center in the gut. “There’s a lot more where that came from, you useless hunks of meat!”

She notices that the second one isn’t alone. Multiple figures start to step out of the sand, all moving toward her. She starts to back up, realizing there isn’t more where that came from, when the first lunges at her from the ground, most definitely _not_ dead.

“Oh, shit.”

To her credit, she is only paralyzed with fear for a single second. Her pan kicks in finally and speaks a single word to her, calmly and gently: “Run.”

Vriska is sure that she has never run faster in her life. She’s sure her scrawny ass sets records high-tailing it back to Kanaya’s hive. But with a monumental burst of speed comes an excruciating exhaustion. She’s not near the green place of absolute beauty and safety when her legs start to give out from under her. She trips once, twice, three times before she starts permanently glancing behind her. She has to know they’re not near her, she _has to_.

Her pumper has never lived up to its name before now. She’s sure if a zombie catches up to her and bites her, she’ll be a fucking fountain of blue blood from the pressure within her. They get closer and closer, groans now audible over her hurried footfalls. Terror seizes her and renders her so cold that she hopes it deters them from touching her.

Safety arrives in the form of a giant, white Mother Grub collapsing on the horde from the sky, dragging all of them into a giant hole. Their screams and yells drown from the waves of sand collapsing on them, stifling their existence. At the very least, Vriska’s plan worked!

Glancing back, she realizes it _mostly_ worked. There is a single zombie left. Despite the cacophony of noise behind it, it stays tunnel-visioned on Vriska, knowing she is exhausted, easy prey. She’s panting, she’s small, she’s stumbling - this shadow dropper has eaten similar quarry before this evening. Even though the sun is no longer out, its hunger still lingers.

Vriska tries not to cry when she collapses to her knees. There’s no lusus to save her this time. She scrapes along the hot ground, getting covered in sand and ash, and closes in on herself as the zombie lunges for her once more.

Vriska’s yell is completely overpowered by the sound of a chainsaw revving up and tearing into undead, rotting flesh. She opens her eye in time to see the zombie cleaved in half and then absolutely eviscerated by the frenzied, yet critical swipes from the one and only Kanaya Maryam.

That red outfit somehow looks even better covered in blue guts.

Glorified gardening-tool shaking, the troll slowly turns to look at Vriska, expression a mix of anger, fear, and worry. Her eyes, unblinking, stare at Vriska, as if waiting for an explanation. Vriska, too recently frightened and awestruck, has none.

Kanaya gives a quick look around the area to make sure it’s safe and clear before she decides to speak. She turns off the chainsaw and calmly, silently, walks up to the fallen Serket. Vriska sits up only for Kanaya to reach down and _lift her_ to her feet by the collar of her shirt with only one clenched fist.

“You reckless and dangerous fool!” she yells, fed up with every single stunt Vriska has pulled during her “fun” little stay. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this was?”

“No one got hurt, I didn’t need your help-”

“You’re a danger to _yourself_ more than anyone else! I fear you dying if you’re ever left to your own devices! If I hadn’t seen you, my lusus and I would not have reached you in time!”

Vriska growls into her face. “I’ve been alone for a lot of my stupid life, you act like I need constant supervision-”

“Alone? You’ve never been alone a single **moment** of your short life! Of course you need someone watching you, you utter buffoon!” Scowling, Vriska goes to turn away but Kanaya roots her in place with a hand at her shirt. “And you’re so dense you don’t even know that I want to be that person!”

It is at this point that Vriska loses track of the conversation. Her face goes from angry to confused to angry-confused in less than a second. Before she can respond, Kanaya continues her rant, of which it definitely seems to be turning into, despite her condition of being completely covered in gore.

“And, of course, I try to - _goddamnit_ , do I try - but it’s like you don’t even want me by your careless side!”

In a stupor, Vriska blubbers out a response. “But, but I do!”

“Then why don’t you let me help you?!”

Frustrated, Vriska tears away from Kanaya’s grip, sniffling as angry tears start to well-up. Those feelings of uselessness come back, despite her plan having gone off mostly well. Why does Kanaya have to make her feel so bad about herself? “Because I don’t want all this stinkin’ help! Let me be stupid! I have every right to be stupid! You said it before yourself, you can’t drop everything for me, so why help at all!”

Kanaya drops her chainsaw and grabs her by the shoulders. “Because I _want_ to drop everything sometimes! I may be a fool for doing it, but I can’t help but put others before me! Even you! **Especially** you!” Vriska stares at her like she’s a damned alien and Kanaya scowls. It feels like they’ll never find an equilibrium despite how close it has felt to becoming a reality. “But… but fine! If you don’t want my help, then I’ll do something for me, **for once**!”

Vriska watches her quizzically for a moment before she realizes-

Kanaya punches Vriska in the face, _hard_ , enough to make her reel back and fall flat on her ass, fresh blue blood drenching her shirt and jacket from her nose. A tear rolls down her cheek at the sudden pain..

For a few very long seconds, Vriska has no idea how to respond, completely and utterly shocked. The shows of strength awe her in ways she cannot describe and it confuses her, so so much, because this is Kanaya! This is McFussyfangs, who just cleans and trims plants and makes dresses and… worries over her and… and... “Wh-what was that for-”

Before she can finish her question, Kanaya drops to her knees, dirtying the already soiled dress, clasps her hands around Vriska’s cheeks and pulls her forward, mashing her lips against the paralyzed troll’s lips.

Vriska’s pan stops working for a solid eight seconds. It’s a satisfying blankness. The kiss is sloppy, too rough, too uncertain, and all too forceful, but it shoves so many emotions into Vriska that she isn’t sure she even knows their names once she’s back in the context of the situation. When Kanaya pulls away in a huff, angry and blushing, she keeps Vriska’s cheeks cupped in her hands.

“For some reason, I like you! Despite all your flaws - no - _because_ of all your flaws, I am drawn to you. I want to make sure you don’t die,” she tells her earnestly. “I want to help you become better! I want to help you stop hating yourself!” Vriska stares at her in shock, upset that she even knows about that, but it makes sense. If anyone could figure that out, it would be Kanaya. She always pays attention. She... “I want to care for you.” She cares. She cares more than Vriska ever thought someone can.

Kanaya looks stern, but Vriska can tell there’s a plea in her next few words. “If you hold even an ounce of care in return, you are going to go up to that respiteblock, sit down on that pile, and wait for me to get cleaned up. We will sit together and watch a scary movie and you **will** hold my hand, no matter how much it reminds you of your annoying neighbor! Is that clear enough for you?”

Numbly, she nods, fingers fidgeting against one another. One hand on her cheek goes to her hair and runs through the strands gently. Kanaya is blushing so fiercely now, but it seems whatever surge of adrenaline she got is keeping her going through all this. A tug pulls Vriska back into a kiss - this time, she’s there to really experience how bad of a kiss it is.

It gives her time to realize that she really, really, really might be just a little dense if it took Kanaya punching her and kissing her for her to realize that the Maryam has feelings for her. Just her luck.

Vriska looks off to the hive where the beautiful, mult-colored fabrics attached to the building sway in the soft wind blowing through the desert. She gets up with Kanaya and follows her back to her hive.

* * *

The worst part of the evening, by far, is Vriska being forced to watch that scary movie again. Each jumpscare gets her every single time, but she isn’t as hesitant to hold Kanaya’s hand this time. The context is so different now for her. She always saw Kanaya as pretty, but now to be this close, and after everything that happened outside… it’s different. There is a desire to try this out, even if she isn’t sure what it entails or what she can ever offer a relationship. But she can’t help but see her in a different light.

It’s definitely better than sunlight.

The movie is ignored by the time they’re halfway done with watching it. Vriska, vice-grip on Kanaya’s arm and side, decides to look at Kanaya instead. After a while, Kanaya simply lowers the volume so the movie becomes background noise as they lie back in the soft pile of pillows. Kanaya is glad she brushed Vriska’s hair the other night; it’s much easier to run her fingers through it all to comfort Vriska. It’s been nothing but adrenaline all night for her - maybe a horror movie wasn’t the best idea.

All the same, it gives her a perfect excuse to try and get better at kissing. They’re still really bad at it, though. Kanaya wishes her books would have better descriptions of what to do because she’s a little lost. The act of it is nice, though, even if the feeling of it seems silly and clumsy. The fact that Vriska is simply trying to reciprocate is more than enough for her, for now. It feels like it’s been a long time since she has managed to ask for something in any friendship or relationship. Finally expressing her feelings, as explosive as it was, is also stress off of her shoulders.

At least Vriska seems receptive to it, if a little unsure of herself.

They while away the hours on the pile, enjoying each other’s company, though conversations vary from pleasant to annoying. It seems like they both are trying to prolong Vriska’s stay now, knowing she has to go once the sun is up. Vriska reads her another story, Kanaya plays music from her husktop for them to relax to - the hours tick by.

They realize they barreled through the whole night once soft rays of sunlight start to filter in through the covered windows.

“Goddamnit,” Vriska mutters, sitting up from the pile once she realizes the block has gotten much brighter. “I have to go.”

Kanays sits up too, saddened by those four words. Just when they were getting into a groove, something has to interrupt them. A smile finds its way to her lips suddenly, and she pokes Vriska’s nose, which makes her wince. “In this condition? I don’t know, Vriska. I think you might be too injured to brave the desert sands. I mean, you must be exhausted too!”

Vriska, being true to herself, looks to her side to glare at Kanaya. “What the hell is that supposed to-” At Kanaya’s exasperated look, Vriska catches her drift. “Oh. Oh, you know… maybe you’re right. I feel awfully tired. Don’t you?” Kanaya nods cheekily. “Hmm! Maybe I should inform Zahhak about this unfortunate turn of events. He’ll understand, I’m sure. Just an extra day. Or two.”

Kanaya doesn’t stifle her giggle as Vriska brings up Equius on Trollian.

* * *

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling  centaursTesticle [CT]

AG: Equiiiiiiiiuuuuuuuus.  
CT: D --> Serket, do you have any idea how late it is  
AG: Yes. 8ut you’re awake, so I don’t care!  
CT: D --> How udderly predictable  
CT: D --> Regardless, I am relieved you have finally contacted me  
CT: D --> Are you returning soon  
CT: D --> I hope the plan has not deviated in the slightest  
AG: No, of course not.  
CT: D --> Good, my pump biscuit cannot take much more of this  
AG: I wanted to talk a8out a different plan I have now.  
CT: D --> What  
AG: So, instead of me coming 8ack 8y tomorrow, I’m going to actually 8e stuck here for a little while longer.  
AG: I’ll 8e 8ack in a few days instead.  
CT: D --> Vriska  
CT: D --> This is not a different plan  
CT: D --> This is the same plan but with the worst deviation possible  
CT: D --> Your lusus is insatiable  
CT: D --> We have had to clean up so much b100d  
AG: I’m sure you’re exagger8ing! You’re doing fine.  
AG: You’ll 8e fine.  
AG: I’ll check up on you again real soon!  
CT: D --> Vriska  
AG: Byyyyyyyyeeeeeeee!  


arachnidsGrip [AG] ceased trolling  centaursTesticle [CT]

* * *

With that taken care of, Vriska shuts off Trollian only to realize that the block has gotten so much brighter since she started talking to Equius. It has only been a minute at best!

“I still don’t know how you can stand to live here!” she complains, rubbing her eye. Before she has a chance to fill the block with further complaints, Kanaya pulls her off the pile and makes her stand by one of the windows.

“Shush. Watch with me,” Kanaya tells her. Vriska rubs more sleepiness from her eye.

“Watch what?”

That’s when she notices the sun starting to rise beyond the horizon, its rays slowly covering the wide expanse of the desert as sand is knocked to and fro by the winds. Its warmth feels almost inviting as the heat forces away the cold of the night. Kanaya grabs her hand, smiling softly at her, and runs a thumb over her knuckles. Vriska can’t help but smile back.

It’s so mushy. But she can’t say she minds it. “Beautiful.” So is the sun.

Of course, that’s when the sun starts really brightening the place up - Vriska covers her eye when the light starts to hurt, and backs away from the window, recoiling at the sting of the sunrise. “Real beautiful, yeah, but it still sucks. Sorry, Kan, opinion not budging even a little. The sun sucks ass.”

With a roll of her eyes, she shoves Vriska toward the coon. “We should get some sleep.”

“Do you want the coon?” Vriska asks, and Kanaya is surprised by the kind offer. Sheepishly, she smiles. “What?”

“That’s thoughtful of you, that’s all. No, you should have it, I slept it in yesterday… unless you want me to join you.”

Vriska’s a bright shade of blue. “I mean, it’s your coon, I don’t- that’s not up to me, you know? I mean. Yeah, sure! Sure, let’s share it, why not? I mean, it’s not like we’re getting-”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Vriska.” Kanaya laughs, despite her own blush, and shoves her again toward it. “Get in the coon. I’ll be right behind you. I just need to start on something quickly,” she says, turning to her desk. In a surprising display of clumsiness, she almost trips on the last remaining magic 8-ball in the block. Gasping, she huffs at the realization of what just transpired and kicks it aside, letting it roll down the stairs carelessly. “Also, _please_ stop leaving these useless black oracles lying around.” Vriska laughs from within the coon but says nothing and simply waits.

Kanaya fetches one of Vriska’s notebooks from the floor and flips through the pages, leaving the notebook open on the page holding the lovely drawing of her as a rainbow drinker in an ornate dress. Rummaging through her desk briefly, she pulls out the rolls of fabric she thinks she’ll need and sets them neatly near the sewing machine. She’ll start on it as soon as they wake.

Vriska grins brightly from the coon as Kanaya moves toward her, a satisfied and sheepish look on her face.

* * *

The surviving magic 8-ball slowly rolls away from the bottom of the staircase after a hefty tumble, light glinting off of it from the windows in the hallway. It settles down neatly in the middle, rolling to a stop with its opening face-up at the ceiling. The murky liquid clears.

_Outlook good._


End file.
